


Cake

by CharlotteK



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Baking, Cake, Christmas, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-12
Updated: 2012-07-12
Packaged: 2017-11-09 19:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/457662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharlotteK/pseuds/CharlotteK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has a question for John. The best way to ask it? Ice it on a cake, of course!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cake

Christmas has hit 221B Baker Street. Harder than usual, John notices. The flat is decorated in bright garland of glittering red and green, and twinkling Christmas lights hang above the mantle and wrap around the small tree in the corner of the living room. Sherlock set it all up himself. It’s not the twenty-fifth yet, but tonight is their work Christmas party. It seems strange to John that Sherlock would become this excited about Christmas, or any holiday, at all. Something is different, that’s for sure. He walks into the kitchen to find Sherlock standing at the counter with a cookbook, mixing bowls, and God knows what all else. And he’s humming brightly to himself. Humming! John isn’t sure what the tune is, probably Sherlock’s take on some Christmas carol, and he can’t help but wonder why Sherlock is acting so strangely. Sherlock turns around, and smiles.

“Ah! Good morning!” he says. He ties his apron strings behind his back, and throws another apron at John. John holds it out in front of him. It’s red with little white flowers dotting the front side.

“What’s this for?”

“We’re baking a cake, John. Obviously.”

“You mean you’re baking a cake.”

“Well,” Sherlock replies. “I’m not usually one for baking, but I was asked to do this for the Christmas party tonight. Actually, no. I was told to.” He points at the apron in John’s hand. “Put that on.”

“But-”

“Just do it.”

“So the recipe calls for three eggs,” Sherlock says, a finger to his chin. “but we’ve only got one. I should have picked up some groceries before we started with this.”

“You don’t say.” Sherlock stares at the egg between his thumb and index finger. 

“Could we substitute the other two eggs with something?”

“You can use a bit of oil. So, Sherlock, you’re the smartest person I know, and you need help baking a cake?”

“I told you, I’m not one for baking.” John nods. Sherlock takes the jug of cooking oil, and dumps a little into the mix of flour, sugar, and baking powder. It plops into the bowl, slopping onto the sides of it. John puts a hand to his head.

“That’s too much oil! You should have poured it into the cap first!”

“What’s wrong with lots of oil?” Sherlock asks. He shakes his head. “Never mind, I think I know. Well, with all the oil in here, whoever eats this cake won’t have to worry about being constipated.” John puts a hand on his mouth.

“That will probably be us.” Sherlock cracks the egg and slowly splits the shell in half. He watches as the yolk drips out of the shell and into the bowl. Finally, he shakes the shell halves and the yolk lands as a puddle of slime. Sherlock wrinkles his nose. 

John looks at the bag of flour on the counter beside him, and he gets an idea. He smiles devilishly, and reaches into the bag, taking out a pinch of flour. He holds up his hand, and flicks the powder at Sherlock. It hits him in the side of his face, speckling his dark hair with white. Sherlock turns to face John. He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow.

“Very mature,” he says. He reaches for the bag. “My turn!” he scoops a little flour into his hand and throws it into John’s face. John sputters, and blows the flour out of his mouth. Sherlock smiles. “Two can play at this game.” John takes a handful and throws it back into Sherlock’s face. He looks like a ghost. Sherlock wipes his brow, leaving a long smudge. John starts to laugh.

“It’s a good look for you!” he jokes. Sherlock shakes his head. 

“Come here, you!” he wraps an arm around John’s waist and plants a kiss on his powdery nose. John steps back, surprised.

“Did you just-”

“Kiss you? Yes. You liked it.”

“Okay, Sasslock. How do you like this?” He stands on tiptoe and gives Sherlock’s cheek a smooch. He wipes the flour off his lips, and crosses his arms.

“How do you like this?” Sherlock crushes his lips against John’s. He wraps his arms around him tightly. Sherlock smirks when they pull away. “You have white around your mouth now.”

“I know! And for the record, yes. I did like that.”

“Good, because I was going to do it anyway.”

Eventually, the cake finds its way into the oven. John and Sherlock start to clean their dishes, when Sherlock stops and looks at John.

“I’ve got a surprise for you tonight,” he says casually.

“Can I have a hint?”

“Absolutely not.” Sherlock chuckles. “Thank you for helping with the cake. You know how I feel about you.” John nods.

“I love you too.”

Sherlock holds the box with the cake in it on his lap, as he and John ride in the back of the cab. John is tempted to reach over and peek inside at Sherlock’s icing job, but when he reaches over and opens the lid on the box, Sherlock slams it shut.

“You can’t see it until we get there!” he says, giving John a look.

“Is that the surprise? How well you can ice a cake?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

They walk into the party, and Sherlock sets the cake on the table in the back of the room. John is greeted by Greg with two slaps on the back.

“Glad you made it!” Greg beams. “Merry Christmas!”

“Ah, same to you guys!” 

“I didn’t think he’d actually bake the cake,” he says, looking over at Sherlock.

“Yeah, well,” John says. “It was fun to make.” He clears his throat. “Anyway, should we go join the others at the table?”

When they get there, all the women are standing around Sherlock and the cake, whispering excitedly. Sherlock is looking around the room, as if he couldn't care less what they were so excited about. One of the women looks up.

“Here he comes,” she says. The group spreads out. John is confused.

“Um, what’s going on here?” He looks up at Sherlock. Sherlock gives him a smirk.

“Do you want to know what the surprise is?” He asks. He opens the lid. John’s eyes widen. His mouth falls open, and he is unable to speak.

In red, messy lettering, Sherlock had iced, “Will you marry me?”


End file.
